On Friday night I found myself in Dalston (allegedly the hippest part of London) for the hippest night of the year – the Land of Kings festival.
I am not hip, by any stretch of the imagination.This made things slightly difficult for me.
After dodging the asymmetric-haircutted, skinny-jeaned hordes on the Kingsland road, I hauled my harp down a terrifying flights of stairs into a dark, dank, muddy underground bunker packed with peculiar artworks. I wondered what on earth I’d got myself into. And the pools of water on the floor were rather concerning.
Joining me were Mary from the Shadow Orchestra, with her cello, and a lutenist called Toby Carr. We set ourselves up in the least damp corner we could find, lit by a handful of candles, and started to make music.
And something beautiful happened – the thing that happens when you get a bunch of musicians together and just jam and have fun. Even the morons taking blinding flash photography right in my face and yakking drunkenly didn’t bother me.
Here’s a review of the whole festival – we’re mentioned on the first page as being “a string group, including harpist, playing eerie, discordant music.”
After an hour or so – and several key changes – we called it a night. I hauled myself back home, to discover that everything I was wearing – and the harp – were covered in a layer of sticky grey mud. Nice.